


jesus left you lonely

by opheliahyde



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Gen, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where a pair of cast-off brothers find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	jesus left you lonely

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt _so jesus left you lonely / feels like nothing is really holy / no one hears you calling / falling, everything is falling / do you feel alive? / can you feel alive?_

Scott couldn’t figure out how Seth had found the abandoned farm–if he’d went seeking it out during the day while Scott slept, or if he’d stumbled upon it on one of his walks that led him nowhere, but he drove Scott out to the field and started lining his old tequila bottles along the rickety fence.

“I already know how to shoot,” he tells him, but Seth looks at him, head cocked and his shoulders shrugging.

“It’s good to practice,” he says, putting his gun in Scott’s hands ~~–-~~ it’s heavier than Scott had realized, hard to aim with two hands, even with his added strength, can’t imagine how Seth holds it one-handed and never misses his target. “It’s also good to blow off steam.”

Seth nudges his arms up, but doesn’t comment on his stance, just presses his hand between Scott’s shoulder blades to straighten his spine–the heat of it causes a shudder to ripple through Scott, like the slipping of his skin, but more internal, from his marrow out.

“Give it a shot, kid,” Seth says, close to his ear, and Scott squeezes the trigger. Once. Twice, then in rapid succession, _pop pop pop_ , sparks of fire alight in the night like lightning bugs as each glass bottle shatters and Seth takes another drink from the half-full bottle in his hands, watching.  

Seth claps him on the shoulder after, other hand ruffling his hair, the gesture warming in Scott’s guts, making his skin feel hot like he’d just fed.

“I guess you’re not a bad shot, after all.” 

 

 

 

Seth curls in on himself when he sleeps–on and off, sometimes during the day, sometimes at night, sometimes passed out drunk, but body always tightly-wound, tense like even in sleep he can’t relax, soft animal noises coming from his mouth, his throat, whining and whimpering.

(Scott hears Richie’s name more times than he can count, but never brings it up, never wants to touch Seth’s open wounds when he’s got his own.

He wonders if he could, sprinkle salt and rub, make him hurt for what he did, but Scott can’t find it in him to feel angry at Seth, when all of it’s used up for his father, burning and itching where the stake had scratched at his chest.)

He climbs in with him sometimes, blankets himself around his back and leaning into his warmth, hypnotized by Seth’s heart beating against his chest, reverberating against the hollow cavern inside his ribcage. Seth never says a word when he finds him tucked against him under the sheets when he wakes up, just covers him with the blankets after he slips from the bed.

 

 

 

Seth helps him dig the hole for them to dump the body into, the body of the guy Scott jumped on, and sunk his fangs into and tore his throat out, quicker draw than Seth with his finger on the trigger of his gun.

(Seth had grabbed him after, fingers digging into his arms as he whispered  _easy, easy_  the same way Scott had heard ranchers use with wild, unbroken horses ~~\--~~ maybe it was fitting, now that Scott was part animal, half-feral with bloodlust–but Seth’s looks didn’t carry the same judgement his father’s had, that Kate’s had, just wide-eyed shock and a crease of worry in his brow.)

“This would be easier if we had some acid,” Seth mutters, throw dirt over his shoulder.

Scott stares at him a moment, tongue feeling thick in his mouth, still tasting the blood–the guy’s soul–before Seth laughs, thrusting his shovel in the dirt and leaning on the handle, grinning in the dark with sharp teeth.

“This ain’t my first rodeo, kid, and this certainly ain’t my first inconvenient dead body.”  

 

 

 

Scott kisses his him once, stupid impulse riding on adrenaline, and his mouth burns with the taste of alcohol from his mouth, from his beard scratch-scraping against his chin, his cheeks, but he presses in hard, hands grabbing up bunches of his undershirt.

(Seth kisses him back, for a few breaths, a few heartbeats; Scott remembers that.)

Scott lets go when Seth shoves him back, hand stretched out across his sternum and pushing as Scott stumbles back, keeping his eyes locked on Seth’s as he rubs at his mouth.

“I don’t touch kids,” he says, voice rough and thick, his finger jabbing at him in the air.

Scott scowls. “I’m not a kid, I’m a monster, remember?”

Seth runs his hand through his hair, and laughs, breathy and it shudders under Scott’s skin. “You’re still a kid, fangs or not.” Seth moves across the floor, shifts closer when Scott feels like cringing away, shrinking when his hands land on his shoulders, heavy, his thumbs grazing his collarbone until he looks up and meets Seth’s gaze head on. “Maybe when you’re older.”

“I’m still going to look like this and you’ll be _old._ ”

“Gee, thanks, kid.”

Scott reaches up and touches his temple, combing the tips of his fingers through there hair there, feeling his mouth twist, along with his guts, stomach flipping over when Seth’s mouth twitched upward.

“Look, you’re already going gray.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


End file.
